


Wanderers (From Here to There)

by obsolete_theory (ersatzbeta)



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ersatzbeta/pseuds/obsolete_theory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hakkai and Gojyo are in Sanzo's space ship, heading for the Ox-King nebula, when Sanzo recieves a message from home...</p><p>A continuation of Visitors (From the Back of Beyond.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I did imply there would be a sequel/continuation of Visitors, and here it is! If you haven't read that first, you're probably going to want to.

The _Muten_ glided silently through space, rotating and slow like a derelict, moving forward almost imperceptibly. Its hull was dark and reflective, throwing the light of the stars back, the outline of the ship unclear against the vastness of space.

It was quiet inside the ship. The engines thrummed steadily. The ventilation hissed now and again, muted by the dead space the ship carried, cradled against the outside world. The _Muten_ 's interior was dim: it ran greenish lights where lighting was necessary.

Mostly it was not.

Ukoku admired its minimalism, its stripped down spareness, inside and out. He admired, too, the _Muten_ 's ability to appear inert. He didn't mind their slow-paced journey through space: after all, it wasn't as if he had a true destination in mind. Really, he and the _Muten_ were just killing time.

He looked up at one of the dim panels and frowned at his reflection. His chakra was black, cycling through an ash-gray glow with the flow of the power in the ship. Ukoku consulted the star charts. Soon, he'd make a planetary stop. He was thankful for the landfalls he made: at that point, out of the ship, disconnected from the telepathic umbilical cord, the chakra faded to a slight discolored spot, a blemish as easily ignored as a speck of dirt.

Ukoku liked it best when the ship was nothing beyond a machine under his control, when its influence was limited to the merest expression of his chakra. At the controls, he rubbed his forehead. It irked him that he could feel the ship trying to connect to him. His chakra was a necessary, if irritating, affectation. While one could conceivably fly the ship without one, it was a sloppy, imprecise thing, and Ukoku abhorred imprecision. So he wore the chakra gracelessly and ignored all the _Muten_ 's attempts to further its bond with him.

But now, the awareness of the connection bored into him, as if someone pressed a thumb between his eyes and wouldn't let go. The constant pressure was always at the edge of his thoughts, and it never went away when he was inside the ship. He exercised ruthless self-control, ignoring or outright rejecting the constant scrabbling of the _Muten_ 's power. He only ever allowed it to touch the very surface of his self, just enough for a working chakra, just enough for control.

Ukoku observed the silent cockpit with satisfaction. It was a machine, meant to serve, and serve it would.

The _Muten_ drifted on.


	2. Chapter 2

Sanzo woke with a start: it took him a few seconds to realize that the awful noise he was hearing was not a meteor shower blasting the _Maten_ 's hull or electromagnetic interference over the com system or some other cosmic phenomena, but rather Gojyo singing, loudly and off-key, interspersed with Hakkai's aggressive snoring. Sanzo gave the bulkhead separating their cabins a good whack. It didn't seem to do any good. Gojyo continued to sing and Hakkai, apparently inured to the noise, slept on.

Living in such close quarters had its disadvantages, to be sure. It was times like these that made Sanzo question his decision to let the two of them aboard. He could always kick them off on the next inhabited planet. Sanzo ignored the vague, muddled sensation in his stomach this thought gave rise to. He'd as much as promised them a place on the ship for as long as they wanted it, and he wasn't the sort of person who made—or broke—promises.

The blip of an incoming transmission shook him out of his thoughts.

"What?" said Sanzo.

"It's from home." Goku's voice came over the com system, but it was the wash of emotions that came along with it that really made Sanzo pay attention.

"Oh?" said Sanzo.

"It's compressed," said Goku. "But it's urgent. It's time-stamped yesterday. They sent it on a really high band."

Sanzo's eyebrows raised without his say-so. The usual message-sending protocol meant that, this far from home, it could take a week or more for a message to get to them. It must have been urgent indeed to risk scrambling its contents by sending it on such a fast, high band…Sanzo felt his muscles tense. It had to have been from _Her_.

"Put it through," said Sanzo.

"Gotcha," said Goku.

Sanzo's chakra warmed and he rubbed it, more out of habit than any other reason. The message began playback, a voice talking insistently in his ear, as if the speaker were hanging off his shoulders.

"Sanzo, it's your favorite auntie. Look, darling, I need a bit of a favor. Ostensibly, you're being sent to attend the coronation of the Ox-King nebula's latest ruler. After all that nasty business with the war, it's policy for us to check up on them once in a while, on special occasions."

Sanzo already knew all this. It was his mission brief, after all. After the so-called Ox-King tried—and failed—to take over five hundred years ago, it had somehow become the responsibility of his people to keep an eye on the Ox-King's people, in case they should foment rebellion and make another bid for the galaxy. The coronation of a new king was definitely cause for concern, and none of the council would be satisfied unless Sanzo traveled there, in person, and vetted out the new leader. It was, in all honesty, an issue of galactic security. A pain in the ass to be sure, but it wasn't a duty Sanzo could shirk.

"Here's the thing," continued the message. "I've heard a little rumor. I need you to find out the truth. If need be, you'll take direct action. I've heard, through very reliable sources, that the Ox-King's people have uncovered a relic from the war: one of our people thought to be lost. And while you're finding out the truth of this, you can certainly work on your little pet project of a certain renegade Sanzo's whereabouts as well."

The Merciful Goddess's voice dropped all pretense of lightheartedness.

"They've found Nataku. And he's _alive_. Find him, Sanzo. Find him, bring him home, and destroy whatever research the Ox-King's people may have done on him."

Sanzo thought that was it; the transmission went silent for some time. Then, out of the blue, The Merciful Goddess spoke once more.

"If he won't come willingly, kill him."

The message ended, and Sanzo's chakra pulsed. He didn't bother re-playing the message and, instead, opted to delete it. He sat at the little desk in his cabin and tried to figure out how, exactly, he was supposed to sneak around at a coronation, assassinate someone, and, possibly destroy a whole lot of sovereign property without causing the biggest intergalactic incident since the Ox-King himself. This was, of course, assuming that this rumor was even true. Sanzo pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off an incipient headache. Nataku? A legendary name, yes, but an old one, from the days of the war. One of the greatest warriors of their side, said to have taken down the Ox-King, but Nataku had then disappeared, been assumed dead. And here Sanzo was, supposed to verify and then kill this legend?

Hakkai's snoring ratcheted up a notch and Sanzo startled. Hmm. Was it possible those two could be of some use in this? They did say they had a contact on the planet: they'd been invited. Maybe he wouldn't maroon them the first opportunity he had.

Sanzo thought it over as he changed into a clean ship's-suit and exited his cabin. But, instead of going to the cockpit, he went further into the ship, following the awareness of… _something_ through his chakra. The _Maten_ wanted his attention.

At the very end of the corridor, there was a new doorway. His chakra throbbed: this was what the _Maten_ wanted him to see. Sanzo opened the hatch and climbed in.

"Lights," he said.

And the lights came on, illuminating a room bare save for one thing: a stasis pod. Sanzo frowned. The ship carried no stasis pods, and besides which, this one looked old.

Sanzo approached the pod. He inspected it from several angles, frowned, and turned the possibilities over in his head.

At last, he was left with only one thought.

It had to be Nataku's. The Merciful Goddess would have told Sanzo if she'd put it on his ship, and it seemed unlikely, given that she had only sent word of Nataku to him now. Sanzo frowned harder. The _Maten_ had led him here.

So. Even the ship believed Nataku was alive.

Sanzo thought, briefly, of Goku, another survivor from that age.

He was careful not to let his thoughts leak through their bond while he verified the pod's ID numbers against the records the _Maten_ carried. It was genuine. Ambivalence overwhelmed Sanzo. He had a ship to run and a renegade to find. He didn't need this mess dumped on him as well, didn't need the conflict that was sure to dog him all the way to the Ox-King Nebula's first coronation in five hundred years.

"Lights off," he said.

The room went dark. Sanzo interfaced briefly, with the _Maten_ 's security systems. No one was getting into that room but him. Not even Goku. He ignored the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach this decision caused.

Sanzo closed the hatch firmly behind him when he left.

Gojyo finished dressing before Hakkai even got up. This was the new normal, the after-Hakkai's-world-flamed-out routine they'd developed aboard the Maten. Gojyo woke first, showered first, and dressed first. Then he'd wake Hakkai, if Hakkai hadn't tossed and turned all night like he did all too often, and Hakkai would stumble out of bed, shower, dress, and follow Gojyo's lead to the galley. Then, Gojyo would spend the next hour or so coaxing Hakkai to eat just a little more while Goku hovered annoying, offering to "help" Hakkai with his breakfast and Sanzo scrolled ceaselessly through data pads and glared at anyone who got within three feet of him.

It was almost the opposite of how they'd lived before, when it was just the two of them in the middle of acres of farmland. Hakkai had always been the early riser, the go-getter, and often as not he'd bring Gojyo breakfast in bed once the sun was fully up and streaming warmth through the windows in their bedroom.

And then there was the part where Hakkai used to smile. He didn't any more, not really, not so it reached his eyes. The troubled lines at the corners of his mouth and etched into his forehead never went away.

Gojyo heard Sanzo leave his cabin, and he figured it was safe to get Hakkai up now: one of the worst things was to encounter Sourpuss first thing. Hell, Hakkai and Sanzo could have been twins or something, the way they went around all quiet and pinched. Seeing Sanzo every morning screwed Hakkai up even worse than just living on the ship. Gojyo patted the bulkhead fondly.

Not that it was a bad ship. The _Maten_ was really pretty plush, and he'd never been on a smoother ride. She just kind of…slipped through space, whether it was Sanzo at the helm or, more often, the kid, Goku. Gojyo had had a quick turn in the cockpit, once, and he was surprised at how much _pull_ the _Maten_ had. The ship was like nothing he'd ever seen. How strong did Goku have to be to handle her like he did? Gojyo shook his head. It was something to think about some other time.

He walked the narrow space between Hakkai's and his bunk and shook Hakkai by the shoulder.

"Hey," Gojyo said. "Time to get up."

Hakkai's eyes were closed, but his breathing went from long and regular to short and regular, and Gojyo felt his heart sink as Hakkai lay there, pretending to be asleep. From the looks of it, he was already in a shit mood. He must have been having nightmares or something, though he'd kept it under wraps well enough. Gojyo was used to how Hakkai snored, and that was really all the noise he remembered Hakkai making.

Gojyo bent to tighten the laces on his boots, and his butt gave a distinct twinge. He rubbed at the ache reflexively. Okay. So snoring wasn't the only noise Hakkai had made last night. But it was only the noise he made when he was asleep that counted.

"I'm sorry," said Hakkai.

Gojyo jerked his hand away and tried to act as normally as possible, like Hakkai hadn't done him hard and heavy the night before. His eyes slid over to Hakkai's, which were now cracked open.

"Good morning," said Gojyo. "You didn't hurt me."

Even half asleep, Hakkai was a master of the skeptical look. Gojyo smiled at him and brushed the bangs out of Hakkai's face. Hakkai'd always been a little wild, but ever since they'd boarded the _Maten_ , he had turned a kind of corner. There was a fine edge on that wildness now, and Gojyo could feel him holding back when they were alone. Holding back what, Gojyo didn't know, but Hakkai had never done that before, and it made Gojyo pause. He wasn't going to complain. He was going to be keeping a close eye on things, though, and if it got worse—if Hakkai got worse—he'd think of some way to handle it. He hoped.

"I'm sorry," said Hakkai, again.

He got out of bed, avoiding looking at or touching Gojyo unnecessarily. Hakkai dressed back to him and, while Gojyo appreciated the view, it worried him because it wasn't like him to _hide_ like that.

"Hey, Hakkai," said Gojyo. "Want me to see if the shower's clear?"

Hakkai turned around and smiled. Gojyo could tell it was fake.

"Thank you, Gojyo," he said. "If you would be so kind."

This meant that Gojyo would be leaving Hakkai alone, which in turn meant that Hakkai would brood and possibly refuse to let Gojyo back in. Gojyo kicked himself for volunteering in the first place.

"Honestly, Gojyo," said Hakkai. "I'll be fine."

Gojyo gave him the hairy eyeball. Hakkai hadn't been fine the whole time Gojyo had known him. He was even less fine now.

"I wish we were home," said Hakkai. "No. I wish..."

Gojyo knew what Hakkai wished, and it cut him deep. Because he wished it too. He wished they _had_ a home, period.

Hakkai waved one hand vaguely at the bare-bones bolts and plated metal of the cabin walls, then crossed his arms. Gojyo could almost believe he was comforting himself, except for the way his claws dug into his skin. Shit. Gojyo strode over and eased his arms apart, inspected those claws for blood, then threw his own arms around Hakkai's bony shoulders. Hakkai shivered, and Gojyo held him tight. Hakkai wasn't going to pull back from him, not today. He did it too much lately, and Gojyo wasn't going to let him get away with it.

"There's nothing you could have done," said Gojyo. "I'm not going to let you hurt yourself over it."

He looked into Hakkai's eyes and didn't like what he saw there. How long was it going to take for Hakkai to see Gojyo was right, that everything that had happened wasn't his fault? He'd tell him every hour of every day, if he had to, until Hakkai came round again.

"I could have killed Sanzo," said Hakkai.

His voice was all twisted up, even if he kept smiling that same, placid smile.

"Quit trying to what-if yourself to death," said Gojyo. "I could have activated our shielding before they even landed."

"I suppose it was a miracle we hadn't gotten into trouble before," said Hakkai.

Gojyo could tell Hakkai didn't mean it. He didn't know what to say, though, except that he didn't know what to say, and that wasn't good enough. So he gave Hakkai a squeeze around the middle instead, still afraid Hakkai was going to run away but dumb enough to hope he'd stay.

The comm system crackled to life.

"Hey guys," said Goku's disembodied voice. "You comin' to breakfast or what?"

Hakkai slipped out of Gojyo's arms then, giving him his sad smile.

"We'll be there momentarily," said Hakkai.

"'Kay!" said Goku.

The intercom blipped off, and the two of them were alone again.

"Hakkai," said Gojyo.

He reached out with one hand. Hakkai took it, threaded his fingers through Gojyo's, and then let go.

"We'll talk later," said Hakkai. "I'm going to wash up before we eat."

And Hakkai left before Gojyo could say anything else.

Gojyo sat on his bunk, studying the backs of his hands. There never was a later, not with Hakkai. He'd just smile and fake his way through everything, out-stubborning Gojyo until he finally dropped whatever it was that Hakkai didn't want to talk about. He was infuriating that way.

There had to be something Gojyo could do to reach Hakkai. He just didn't know what. And he was damn sure he was the only one who _would_ do anything. Goku was just a kid, and Sanzo…Gojyo sighed and shook his head. That settled it, then. He'd just have to cook up a good plan to shake Hakkai out of it.

Things would get better. They had to.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
Sanzo liked to think, after so many years traveling, that there wasn't much left to surprise him. He'd tracked strings of coincidence across the galaxies, some inner sense signaling another clue or connection to his ultimate goal. Picking up Hakkai and Gojyo was well within the realms of normal. Even the non-coincidence of their shared destination—the Ox-King nebula—was hardly a blip on Sanzo's radar.    
  
Still, when Sanzo returned to his cabin later that morning, after breakfast and washing up and checking on Goku who had installed himself in the cockpit, the sudden alteration of his cabin shook him out of his apathy. The _Maten_ had expanded his cabin, bunk and all—his bunk was actually bed-sized, in a cabin that was twice the size of what he'd left only a short time ago. Sanzo looked around the room, suspicious. His ship, powerful as it was, had finally gone round the bend, unless…Sanzo just about choked on the implications. He addressed the changed walls.  
  
"Put it back the way it was," he said. "I don't need this. It's never going to happen."  
  
The _Maten_ was silent, save the regular whoosh of the re-circulated air.  
  
Sanzo stared up at the ceiling. He knew the outlines of each of the clouds by heart, and it was shocking that the _Maten_ had replicated them exactly when it had expanded his cabin's size. There were twice as many as there ought to be, and Sanzo couldn't tell which were original just by looking. It disturbed him.  
  
Sanzo sat, gingerly, on the edge of the bed—his mind couldn't avoid that term now: _bed_ —and tried to meditate. He had trouble achieving anything like inner silence, distracted by the subtle differences of where he sat. He bore down harshly on himself and tried to tell himself that such thoughts were immaterial. In the end, the thought of those damn red flowers broke Sanzo's concentration completely. He shifted uncomfortably, gave up the pretense of meditation, and stood again, pacing the disturbingly large floor.  
  
Things onboard had settled into a routine of sorts: Sanzo was no longer continually surprised that there were two other people sharing the ship. Hakkai and Gojyo, in turn had become more proficient in navigating the alternate gravities and no longer stumbled their way through the ship. Even Hakuryuu, the little construct-dragon, had found a place of sorts, spending most of its time with Goku. Sanzo wondered, briefly, if Hakkai felt betrayed over that small defection. He shook his head. Who was he to consider such things? It was none of his business what Hakkai thought or felt.  
  
The chakra pulsed faintly, and Sanzo rubbed a finger across it.  
  
"Oh, now you're paying attention?" he said.   
  
He closed his eyes to better concentrate on why the _Maten_ was bleeping at him. It was disorienting, still, hooking his brain up with the ship and feeling what the ship's sensors detected, but it was a hell of a lot quicker than getting into the cockpit, faster even than paging Goku and asking for an update. He'd been told, once, that the disorientation would eventually pass.  
  
There was nothing going on outside the ship. Just more boring space and the far-off tug of a red giant, a couple stray asteroids. Sanzo adjusted the ship's thrust almost as an afterthought, curving gently around the potential gravity wash and the erratic, spinning hunks of rock.  
  
Sanzo's chakra gave another insistent pulse.  
  
"What?" he said. "There's nothing going on! Fuck you, you stupid ship."  
  
Some days Sanzo was convinced the ship was alive, and then there were days like this one, where the ship pestered him worse than Goku…he nailed a bulkhead with his boot. The dull thud reverberated around the room for a second, and then a slight, hesitant thud echoed back. It was only when the noise came again that Sanzo realized someone was knocking on his cabin door.  
  
"What do you want?" yelled Sanzo.  
  
The door swung open, and in slipped Hakkai. Sanzo watched, mute, as Hakkai looked around the room, and he silently dared him to say something about how it had changed.   
  
"I'm sorry," said Hakkai. "Are you busy?"  
  
Sanzo shook his head. Hakkai was painfully polite, and if he looked a little more thoughtful at this very second, what of it? He'd never say what was really on his mind.  
  
Without prompting, Hakkai sat down on Sanzo's bed. This move shouldn't have surprised Sanzo, and yet it did. There wasn't anywhere else to sit, besides the desk chair, and that was currently occupied with Sanzo's extra ship's suit and his planet-side clothes. Sanzo couldn't imagine Hakkai moving another man's clothing just to sit; from what he'd observed, Hakkai took the path of least resistance, time and again, even when that path saw his home burned and him at the mercy of people he'd barely even met.   
  
Sanzo frowned and leaned against the wall opposite Hakkai.  
  
"Well?" said Sanzo.  
  
"I was hoping, if it weren't too much of an inconvenience," said Hakkai. "If I could rest here, just for a little while."  
  
Sanzo studied the tired lines of Hakkai's face. The tendons in his hands were knotted, even as his hands lay inert on his lap. His hair was somewhat tamed, laying flat against his neck, though the ends of it that framed his face and cut across his shoulders curled, defiant of the artificial gravities that the _Maten_ generated. At length, Sanzo exhaled, shoving his irritation out with the breath, and he sat next to Hakkai.  
  
"Don't expect me to talk about how you feel," said Sanzo.   
  
Hakkai laughed, a little.  
  
"I've talked my feelings to death," said Hakkai.  
  
Sanzo could see that deadness in Hakkai's eyes, and for the first time since they'd left Hakkai's planet, Sanzo felt worry uncurling in the pit of his stomach. He squelched the feeling ruthlessly. Not his problem.  
  
"So why are you here?" said Sanzo.  
  
"Gojyo means well," said Hakkai. "Still, he won't leave me be. Sometimes a person simply needs quiet."  
  
Sanzo had no comfort to offer, could hardly imagine himself in Hakkai's position. And so he offered nothing, nothing but the quiet of his cabin.  
  
For a while, Hakkai just lay there. Sanzo sat, stiff as a board, next to him. He didn't want anything he did to be misconstrued as kind. Considering the sorts of looks Hakkai had given him, once upon a time, and considering that Sanzo had returned those looks in more or less equal measure, had promised something more when he'd saved that single flower, it surprised him that laying was all Hakkai did. Still, he didn't want to encourage Hakkai's delusions.   
  
Sanzo's lower back started to ache. He wondered if Hakkai would consider it weak or a sign of something else if he were to lay down as well. Not that he'd _touch_ Hakkai while laying.  
  
"I'm not going to bite," said Hakkai.  
  
Sanzo grunted, noncommittal. A flash of temptation ran through his mind: Hakkai's teeth at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. Sanzo shook his head. He wasn't sure if he was more pleased or irritated that Hakkai could, apparently, read him so well. Sanzo let his eyes flick over to Hakkai's prone body. Hakkai's eyes were closed, and so Sanzo felt free to study his exotic— _alien_ ­—profile. Hakkai was unlike anyone he had ever seen.  
  
Sanzo eased back beside him.  
  
"I can hear your heart beating," said Hakkai. "Are you afraid of me?"  
  
"As if I would be afraid of you," said Sanzo.  
  
And he wasn't afraid, although he did feel some anticipatory pressure, thinking that this situation could develop further. The looks they'd exchanged, the attempted murder, the red flowers—why had he given Hakkai that flower? Why couldn't he stop thinking about it?—seemed like years ago, like a lifetime away, and yet some connection was undeniably there. Sanzo noticed, somewhat cynically, that the ship had stopped pushing at him once he'd sat down next to Hakkai.  
  
All of this was useless thinking. Sanzo stopped himself short: he let one of his hands rest against Hakkai's ribs. He felt almost too heavy to move, and Hakkai was burning hot against the bare skin of his palm. Sanzo felt the expansion and contraction of Hakkai's body as he breathed, and it pleased him in some obscure, hard to explain fashion.  
  
"Am I going to have to fight Gojyo after this?" said Sanzo. "I won't take on that headache."  
  
Sanzo could freely admit—to himself—that he didn't tolerate jealousy. He didn't see the point of it, really, and getting into a fight over Hakkai's virtue was ridiculous, because Hakkai was more than capable of defending himself. The back of his neck prickled pleasantly remembering the weight of Hakkai on him, the pricking of his claws…  
  
Hakkai laughed, and it startled Sanzo because that laugh, felt through Hakkai's chest, made Sanzo's fingers tingle and roused the interest of other, choice parts of his anatomy. It took a long minute for Hakkai to calm down again beneath Sanzo's hand. Sanzo himself felt anything but calm. He disciplined himself, but found only a small measure of peace in the action.  
  
"No," said Hakkai. "He won't."  
  
Sanzo could feel Hakkai's breathing and heart had picked up.   
  
"Good," said Sanzo.  
  
He wondered, idly, if their species were at all compatible. Sanzo linked briefly with the _Maten_ and gave Hakkai a quick sweep with the sensors. Good. At least they weren't capable of impregnating each other—and Sanzo felt a rare blush rising from the thought. Not of pregnancy, because that was absolutely horrifying, but of what it would take to get someone, anyone, pregnant. Sanzo chided himself. It had been a long time since he'd had sex. Too long, apparently.  
  
"Sanzo?" said Hakkai.   
  
"Yes?" said Sanzo.  
  
"I don't want to assume anything," said Hakkai. "But if…"  
  
Hakkai gestured to himself and to Sanzo and to the bed.  
  
"Your connections with Goku and the ship," said Hakkai. "Wouldn't they be distracting?"  
  
From the tone of Hakkai's voice, Sanzo inferred that Hakkai really wanted to know if they would be interrupted. As for the ship…Sanzo was genuinely amused to think of the _Maten_ suddenly veering off course because he was to wrapped up in sex to guide it.  
  
 _Goku.  
  
Yeah?  
  
Unless a star goes nova in front of us, I don't want to be disturbed. I'm disconnecting from the Maten now._  
  
Goku's feelings leaked through their connection: confidence, joy, humor, and a slight tinge of wistfulness which caused Sanzo to take sharper notice of what he himself was sending.  
  
 _Gotcha, Sanzo. I won't peek._  
  
Even after he cut the connection, Sanzo felt an embarrassment over the situation. Not about Hakkai, but about Goku's inside view of Sanzo's life. It couldn't be helped, not with their telepathic bond, but the lack of privacy in this situation was galling. Equally galling, on a much more private note, one that he buried far away from Goku's reach,  was that the situation at hand happened so infrequently that they had no protocol between them to handle it. Sanzo disliked being caught flat-footed.  
  
"There," said Sanzo. "We won't be interrupted, barring a sudden disaster."  
  
"Good," said Hakkai.  
  
Sanzo felt Hakkai's heart drumming through his ribs. They lay, not quite touching, for a long time, and everything was blissfully quiet around them. Sanzo thought about the not-quite promise of sex, that it could happen between them, that it would happen, perhaps as soon as today, and he was unable to relax. He hadn't shared an intimacy like this—two people, just lying on a bed—in years.  
  
It was only when Hakkai began to snore that Sanzo felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. He snorted. It figured, didn't it? Still, Sanzo couldn't deny the relief he felt that Hakkai really meant to rest. Sanzo linked back up with the _Maten_ and confirmed that they were still several weeks away from the Ox-King nebula.   
  
Sanzo moved his hand, creeping further up and across Hakkai's chest. He could allow himself this much. There was plenty of time for other things later. Right now, measuring the steady up and down of Hakkai's breathing, was enough. It had to be, he told himself. Satisfaction would come later. His skin flushed hot at the thought of later.   
  
Practiced at long intervals of stillness and silence, Sanzo waited for Hakkai to wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the UST will have some resolution in the next chapter. I just couldn't get them into bed any other way this time! Accordingly, the next chapter will be longer.^_^


End file.
